


Reach for the sky and I will hold your hand

by AbAbsurdo



Series: Short unconnected one shots [4]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Tenderness, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 11:33:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28617363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbAbsurdo/pseuds/AbAbsurdo
Summary: Thomas has inherited a place to call his own, and it's the first time Richard comes to see it.He's in for a surprise.
Relationships: Thomas Barrow/Richard Ellis
Series: Short unconnected one shots [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1858300
Comments: 11
Kudos: 51





	Reach for the sky and I will hold your hand

Richard doesn’t know what to expect when he enters the cottage’s door. Thomas has been here alone for over a week waiting for him to come. The farm belonged to an Uncle, Thomas didn’t remember or even knew about, until he perished and left everything he owned to him after his death. Thomas told him over the telephone that he had a place of his own, excitement oozing from his voice. Presenting a calm exterior when he was happier than ever was difficult for Thomas. One of the things Richard loves is Thomas' inability to hide his emotions. For Richard, whose years in service had turned him equal to the expensive paintings on the wall, Thomas seemed as refreshing a walk in the countryside. When he had said as much to Thomas, he had stared down at him with a blank gaze showing zero emotion. Richard decided he didn't like the look and pounced on him, tickling him until his facade crumbled into laughter, tears of amusement in the clear eyes. 

Richard closes the door behind him, surprised it’s cosier and more luxurious inside than he would have thought when he saw it from outside. He sets his valise in a corner, looking around. It is packed with furniture it certainly doesn't need, memorabilia and paraphernalia of a life recently lost making it difficult even to navigate around.

“Thomas?” He calls out for his missing lover, taking off his coat and hat. The wood burns slowly in the fireplace, the table is set for dinner for two. Richard smiles.

But where is Thomas?

“Thomas? I am here!”

He hears footfalls coming down the stairs and it takes a while to comprehend what he sees, first wide hemmed trousers, perfectly creased in the centre as normal, striped cotton shirt, no collar attached, a knitted waistcoat Richard hasn’t seen before. His eyes widen when he sees Thomas’ face.

“Hello,” Thomas says and wraps his arms around him, resting his cheek on Richard’s shoulder. Richard returns the hug, Thomas’ stubble an unfamiliar sensation on his skin. He pushes him back a bit to take a good look of him. His hair is unstyled, no slick to hold it back, it falls all over his forehead, taking years off him.

Then, there is the beard. Thomas probably hasn’t shaved the whole time he’s here. Alone. Reddish brown stubble on his pale skin, streaked with silver here and then, intense eyes gazing at him questioning. “What?”

Richard raises his hand, the back of his fingers touch the hair. It’s softer than he had thought, the skin beneath it warm to his touch. He leans over pressing his lips to Thomas’. “When was the last time you shaved,” he asks, his mouth never leaving its counterpart.

"You haven't seen me in half a year and that's what you ask? Surely not!"

He could say a lot about the vest as well, but his eyes cannot move away from the handsome face. "I left a gentleman and I found a savage." His loving gaze and the fingers that still caress the stubbly cheek tell another story.

"The day I left Downton. No one sees me here...," he broke off, leaning further into the gentle touch.

"I doubt you could stand among polite company, as you are."

"Good. Not interested in polite company." Richard's back collides with the wall and whatever is attached to it, and gets a proper welcome with a real kiss that leaves his lips tingling with want.

* * *

Much later, sprawled over the large bed -Richard has to question Thomas about his Uncle- dressed in pajamas and the atrocious vest Ms. Baxter knitted for him as well all of which he thinks are unnecessary when he can be naked underneath the covers, with Thomas dozing off by his side, he looks at him, marvelling again at the difference a few days of not shaving can bring to a man's face. Thomas is still beautiful, no question there, the reddish beard soft to his touch, not prickly at all and those lips, red from kissing and red wine more inviting than ever.

He trails his thumb around the perfect shape of the beloved mouth effective in pleasure and the harshest remarks he can think of. Richard smiles, eyes crinkling in delight for this moment, he's truly happy. "To have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part," he whispers to himself. 

His hand is suddenly enveloped by Thomas' slightly larger one, being kissed slowly. Thomas was awake the whole time. Or, as always, he woke up the perfect moment to mock him. "I heard nothing about obeying..." Thomas jokes.

"Oh I'll obey you, alright. Never fear that. Anything you want, you desire, you ask for."

"Are we married now, then?"

"You didn't say your vows."

"I, Thomas, take thee, Richard, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part." Richard can’t tell whether they joke or are serious. It sounds like a joke, it feels serious. This is their moment of truth. 

"You didn't say anything about obeying either."

"’course not. I tricked you."

Richard leans down, one course of action in mind. Kissing his defiant _husband_ until he relents.

**Author's Note:**

> From what I researched, beards became popular in the 1960s. Before then, no one was unshaven.  
> I needed fluff, pure unadulterated fluff.


End file.
